


Your Heart on Your Skin

by boomerbird10



Series: Tiva/Tivali Drabbles [7]
Category: NCIS
Genre: Abby is a bad influence, F/M, Tattoos, Tony and Ziva can't hold their liquor, drunken night out shenanigans, silly domestic fluff, with hangovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-10
Updated: 2020-06-10
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:40:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24637726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boomerbird10/pseuds/boomerbird10
Summary: "Okay, alright, maybe I'll have one more glass," Tony concedes finally. "Two, tops." It won't be twelve hours before he comes to regret those words.
Relationships: Ziva David/Anthony DiNozzo
Series: Tiva/Tivali Drabbles [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1749793
Comments: 3
Kudos: 17





	Your Heart on Your Skin

**Author's Note:**

> Drabble written for the prompt "is that a tattoo?"

"Wear your heart on your skin in this life."

—Sylvia Plath, _Johnny Panic and the Bible of Dreams: Short Stories, Prose and Diary Excerpts_

* * *

Abby invites the David-DiNozzos to London for the weekend, and since it's only a two-hour train ride from Paris, they decide to take her up on it. Tali is ridiculously excited for this little adventure, having never been to "Peppa Pig's country" before, as she puts it, and the journey goes smoothly.

They have a lovely time—neither has seen Abby in years, and the visit makes them both nostalgic. ..

Maybe a little _too_ nostalgic.

On Saturday night, they have a few glasses of wine with dinner, and it doesn't take long for them all to go from sober to tipsy. When Abby offers to refill Tony's glass for the fifth time, he protests.

"Thanks, Abby, but I think I've had enough."

Abby sees him looking at the bottle with longing, though, and she grins. "You sure there, Tony? 'Cause your mouth is saying one thing but your eyes are saying another."

He glances at Ziva for help, but she's feeling wonderfully fuzzy herself, and she just shrugs at him, looking like she's trying not to smirk.

"Okay, alright, maybe I'll have _one_ more glass," he concedes finally. "Two, tops."

It won't be twelve hours before he comes to regret those words.

* * *

Neither Tony nor Ziva will ever be nonchalant or cavalier about Tali's safety; they can't afford to, not with everything they've had to deal with in the past.

So when Abby asks if they'd like to go out to a pub, they say no. "We cannot leave Tali alone and we do not have a sitter we trust here," Ziva says regretfully. A night out sounds like just what she needs. (Or maybe that's the merlot speaking as it sloshes pleasantly in her stomach.)

"She could probably stay with my roommate," Abby offers. "I doubt Natalie would mind."

"Key word there was 'trust', Abbs," Tony argues quietly. "You know we can't just leave her with anyone. It takes time to vet people. I'm sure your roommate is nice enough, but we don't know her."

"I understand," Abby says sincerely. "It was just an idea. You do know her, though, at least through that whole six-degrees-of-separation thing."

That makes Tony laugh. "You could say that about anyone. I also know Kevin Bacon and Obama and Beyonce, but you don't see me calling _them_ to babysit."

"It doesn't go _that_ far back with Natalie, Tony! Besides the fact that you know me well and I know _her_ well, you've got another connection to her, too."

"What's that?"

"She's Clay's cousin," Abby shares.

She and Tony exchange bittersweet smiles.

"That is the MI-6 officer who was lost to a shooting, yes?" Ziva cuts in softly, not wanting to interrupt but wanting to make sure she's following the conversation.

"Yeah, Clayton Reeves. He was a good friend."

"Cool guy," Tony agrees. "But I thought he didn't have any family, Abby."

"He didn't know he did. Natalie tracked me down once I moved here, and she told me that she'd been looking for him for a long time after they were separated as little kids. And yes," she adds, cutting off the questions that are clearly forming, "her story checks out. I know to be careful, too. Wouldn't want Gibbs to show up guns blazing if I got myself in trouble, and we all know he would, damn the consequences."

Maybe it's Abby's sincerity or maybe it's that brief flash of regret for Reeves' death, but something changes Tony's mind. He wants to trust Clay's cousin, and he wants to be able to trust _people_ again.

Still, it's not solely his decision, and when he turns to look at Ziva, he finds her already watching him. She seems to be thinking along similar lines, and they come to a silent decision. "If Natalie is who you say she is and _if_ she does not mind staying while Tali sleeps, then… show us your favorite pub, Abby."

From there on out, the night's a blur.

* * *

Waking up the next morning is rough, to put it delicately. Tony has a pounding headache and his mouth hasn't felt this dry since his chat with Saleem in the desert of Somalia; the only bright side is that though he's mildly nauseous, he doesn't think he'll actually be sick this time.

He's certainly hungover, but the worst of it must already be behind him, he's pretty sure. He probably escaped largely unscathed.

He hears Ziva gasp, and though moving seems like a terrible idea right now, he feels compelled to see what has startled her. He's surprised to find that it's _him_ holding her gaze. "What?" he asks grumpily, not in the mood to be stared at.

"Is that a tattoo?"

"What!?" he repeats. "Where?"

She taps the inside of his right bicep, and he looks down. Holy effing _shit_. Looks like he didn't survive the night unscathed, after all.

He looks back up at her in horror, but her shock has already given way to humor. She has her hands clapped over her mouth, sadistically gleeful. "Tony, tell me you did not!" she cries, though the proof is right in front of her.

"It's probably temporary. It'll wash off," he decides, pushing past his throbbing headache to rise and go scrub the ink from his arm over the bathroom sink.

It does not wash off.

He comes back, feeling shell shocked, and sits down heavily on the bed. "Yes," he mutters.

"Yes, what?"

"You asked if it was a tattoo," he replies snidely, not enjoying her clear humor at his expense. "I'm saying yes. It _is_."

The look on his face, half mildly shocked and half ornery, sends her over the edge. She starts laughing and can't stop until there are tears in her eyes, because every time she glances at him and his general air of annoyance, the whole situation seems funnier.

Tony waits it out, arms crossed, and eventually, Ziva quiets. "You done?" he demands, unimpressed, and she nods, still grinning. "Good, because I have questions. What happened last night?"

That makes her shrug. "I do not remember much. I drank nearly as much as you did."

"Then why aren't you hungover?"

"Genetics?" she guesses, and he does not appreciate her still-smug expression. "Anyway, Tony, it is not so bad. The tattoo is pretty."

" _Pretty_!?" Tony repeats incredulously. "I don't _want_ a pretty tattoo!" Ziva remains too tickled for his tastes, and it makes him grumpier. "I'm a _man_ ," he mutters, mostly to himself. "A grown ass man. A manly man! I'm not _pretty_."

"You _are_ pretty, Tony, but that is beside the point."

He still wants to argue, but at least that sounds like a well-intentioned compliment instead of a tease. "Then what _is_ the point?"

"Do you know what your tattoo is?"

"Um, yeah, Ziva, I'm not _that_ hungover. I know what a flower is."

She chuckles but shakes her head. "I know you know that. But do you know what kind of flower it is?"

"When it comes to plants, if it's not a rose or a sunflower, I probably can't recognize it, no."

Ziva reaches up and gently traces his new ink with her finger. It really _is_ nice, she thinks, just a continuous-line outline, tasteful and, in her opinion, not 'unmanly' at all. "That is a narcissus papyraceus bloom, better known as the ziva flower."

Tony's eyes flicker from her hand to her face in surprise. "Are you serious?"

She nods.

"Huh. Not gonna lie, sweet cheeks, I didn't know there _was_ a ziva flower." He looks back at the tattoo—though it's on the inside of his arm, easy to hide if he doesn't want it seen, it suddenly seems… not so bad. He is and always will be hopelessly in love with Ziva, and after all the shit they survived, maybe it's only fitting to carry something with him that's so uniquely _her_.

"Now you will never forget," she teases, interrupting his musing, and he reluctantly starts to see the humor in the situation after all.

"Guess not," he agrees, rueful but not unhappy.

Ziva smiles, reaching up to pat his cheek. "Come, flower child," she says. "Let us go check on _our_ child."

* * *

At breakfast, Abby is upbeat and cheerful as usual, and she bustles about cooking five different things at once. "How are you two feeling this morning?" she wants to know.

Tony and Ziva exchange secret smiles. "We are no worse for the wear," Ziva answers for the both of them.

"Glad to hear it! Man, you guys really let loose last night."

"Yeah, we figured that out this morning," Tony says with a laugh, reaching up reflexively to touch the physical reminder of the evening's adventures.

Abby notices. "Oh, yeah, how's that tattoo doing? You have to remember to put cream on it a couple of times a day. It'll heal faster that way."

"Thanks for the tip, Abbs. It feels alright."

Abby pauses to flip a pancake and then turns to them again, gesturing with her spatula. "And how's _your_ tattoo, Ziva?"

"My what?" Ziva parrots in surprise.

Now Tony understands the evil glee Ziva felt earlier. Oh, he can't wait to hear more about _this_ , especially because Ziva found _his_ surprise tattoo to be so amusing.

Turnabout, he remembers, is fair play.


End file.
